The Return Of The Movie Serial Villains
by Ahray
Summary: It's one month after the final Adam West Bat episode - and dark stormclouds loom over Gotham!
1. A 1960's City Skyline

**"HIGH NOON IN GOTHAM CITY**

**A CITY UNDER SIEGE"**

Whitey leaned against the grimy alley wall and eyed the blonde woman pacing along the opposite side of the street. She was commanding his complete attention. This could be due to the fact that she: A) accounted for the only activity on the street; B) was stunningly gorgeous; and C) was clad in only a two-piece white bikini. Whitey wholeheartedly approved of her choice in colors and her minimalist sense in fashion.

**"BESET BY PERSONS OF SUSPECT CHARACTER"**

He watched her stroll back and forth in front of the Gotham Apiculture Museum. Each time she passed a window, she slowed to peer inside. As Whitey had been expecting (drawing from some personal knowledge of criminal behavior) she now came to a stop at the museum's entrance. 

**"AWASH IN A WAVE OF CRIME"**

When he saw her bend over the front door, he figured it wasn't to get a closer look at the Closed For Lunch' sign. The blonde, known in criminal circles by the nom de guerre Undine, applied a skeleton key to the lock. She had the door open in three seconds flat. Whitey emitted a low whistle of admiration.

"**ONLY AN ELITE TEAM OF STALWART FIGURES STAND  
BETWEEN THE CITY AND BLATANT LAWLESSNESS"**

No sooner had Undine crossed the threshold into the museum's interior than Whitey saw two masked figures come swinging down on ropes, seemingly from out of nowhere. The larger of the two wore a charcoal-gray bodysuit, black trunks and a blue cloak. The more youthful figure was clad in a red tunic, green trunks, and a bright yellow cape. 

**"DENIZENS OF THE UNDERWORLD COWER IN FEAR AT   
THE APPROACH OF BATMAN AND ROBIN!"**

Spying some unlawful behavior, the two hit the ground running. With the speed of a gazelle, Batman raced over to where Whitey stood and seized him in an iron headlock.

Robin sprang to join them. "So! Thought you'd practice your lousy loitering habit right here, eh?" 

Batman's grip tightened. "Well, well, if it isn't our old friend Whitey. Where's the rest of your River Rat gang?" 

Unbeknownst to the Caped Crusaders, as they were interrogating the hapless bystander, Undine was merrily doing as she pleased inside the Apiculture Museum.

"Come on! I'm just minding my own business!" Whitey croaked in complaint. "Why are you rousting me?"

Batman loosened his grip to gaze grimly into the distance. "Twenty five years ago," he intoned, "in an alley not far from this one, a man and his wife were brutally gunned down while their child watched in horror. The murderer? A _loiterer_; one assumed to be merely whiling away the hours to no end. But, as history has shown us time and again, today's idler is tomorrow's murderer! Diligent enforcement of our loitering laws would have saved that couple."

"Maybe 72 hours in a cell will give you enough time to think of a more productive hobby!" added Robin, poking Whitey in the ribs for extra emphasis. 

"72 hours?!"

"Assuming good behavior allows you to avoid the full 90 day sentence," Batman replied as he yanked Whitey's wrists behind him and bat-cuffed him.

Robin glanced at his watch. "Holy Fractured Obligations! The last prosecution witness is set to testify in just a few minutes!"

"Let's go!"

Each grabbing an arm, the two quickly hustled Whitey down the block towards the courthouse. Just as they disappeared from view, Undine crept out from the Apiculture Museum, her goal apparently accomplished. Clutching a huge glass-encased bee hive to her sizable bust, she made a beeline for the nearest back alley.

**"AND, AS ONE SCOFFLAW IS HAULED OFF THE FACE THE MUSIC,  
ANOTHER WAITS RESLESSLY FOR THE SCALES OF JUSTICE TO  
WEIGH HER FATE."**

Courtroom B of the Gotham City Courthouse thronged with noisy onlookers. All eyes were fixed upon petulant expression of the defendant - The Siren! - tantalizing temptress of tune! The Siren's short toga-like costume stood out in contrast to the official blue uniforms of Officers Shannon and Tara, flanking her on either side. Their dual feminine presence served to ensure the Siren could not escape simply by bewitching all the men with her sinister song.

"And isn't it true," said the prosecutor, addressing the witness on the stand, "that you have witnessed the defendant attempting to take human life on previous occasions?"

"That's correct. This marks the second time in as many years that the Siren has attempted not only mind control, but murder."

"**TESTIFYING AGAINST THE DEFENDANT: BATMAN'S NEWEST  
COLLEAGUE IN THE FIGHT AGAINST CRIME – THE LOVELY AND  
MYSTERIOUS BATGIRL!"**

"And isn't it true, Batgirl, that the defendant previously vowed in your presence that her days of lawlessness were behind her?" the prosecutor asked.

"She did. When we captured her last year, she said her voice was ruined and she would never again pursue a criminal career."

"I have no further questions. Thank you for your testimony."

"My pleasure, Batman."

"**YES, NOT ONLY DOES HE POLICE THE CITY STREETS, BUT  
BATMAN IS GLAD TO LEND A HAND IN PROSECUTING CRIMINAL  
MISDEEDS AS WELL!"**

As Batman took his seat at the prosecution table, the Siren leaned over to whisper to her attorney. "Do you think that exchange cast me in a bad light?"

"Batgirl's testimony was pretty damaging. You may have to testify on your own behalf, after all."


	2. Clock on the courtroom wall

****

"THE WHEELS OF JUSTICE SPIN SWIFTLY IN GOTHAM CITY.   
THUS, WITHIN A MATTER OF HOURS, THE JURORS EMERGE FROM   
DELIBERATIONS AND FILE SOLEMNLY BACK TO THEIR SEATS!"

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" asked the Judge. 

The foreman of the jury rose from his seat. "Yes, we have your honor. We find the defendant…" 

"Wait a minute," the Siren interrupted, standing to scrutinize the jury foreman. She pointed at him indignantly. 

"That's the owner of the store that I rob….uh, the owner of the jewelry store that was robbed." 

"Precisely!" said Batman. "Yet you testified earlier that you have never set foot in the establishment. Therefore, you should not be able to identify Mr. Wumpington as such." 

"I…I…," she stammered. 

"…find the defendant guilty!" Mr. Wumpington concluded, thrusting his arms in the air. 

The courtroom erupted in cheers. Batman's brilliant legal tactics had saved the day! 

"But you can't have the person I robbed as foreman of the jury!" protested the Siren. "This is an utter miscarriage of justice!" 

"Not at all, Siren. William Wumpington is not in reality on the jury, but merely a red herring – a stand in," Batman observed, tenting his fingers contemplatively. 

"You were so intent on weaving your web of lies that you forgot to count the jurors. There's one too many today!" Robin added. 

"Curses! The oldest trick in the book!" exclaimed the Siren's attorney. 

The Siren took a moment to digest this news. "So...then that means that we haven't yet heard from the real jury." 

"Well, no, but now that you've admitted to robbing Mr. Wumpington, there's hardly any point in that, is there?" 

The jurors all nodded in agreement. 

"Sound reasoning, Batman" agreed the Judge. The Judge had a well-deserved reputation for being swayed by even the lamest of arguments. 

Enraged, the Siren bolted from her seat and leaped over the table before either officer could stop her. She let out an ear-splitting sonic scream and charged the bench. 

Scarcely had the sound left her lips when her hypnotic cry was cut off as a swift-moving figure in purple sprang forward and clotheslined her. Pulled up short as her throat collided with Batgirl's arm, the Siren's feet flew out from under her and her head plummeted to the hard courtroom floor. 

As she crashed to the ground in a heap, Batman and Robin stood and simultaneously slammed their law books shut. Another case brilliantly resolved by the Caped Crusaders! The defense attorney noted with some jealousy that their law books had Batman symbols on the covers. 

The Siren shook her head, trying to silence the horns and drums pounding between her ears. As she lay dazed and disoriented, a group of random images flashed before her eyes: 

* A whirling kaleidoscope of colors 

* A chorus of voices, singing Batman's name in praise. "Da Da, Da Da, Da Da, Da Da…Batman!" 

* Two-dimensional versions of the dynamic duo running straight into the foreground, their legs and elbows churning in perfect unison 

* Batman and Robin punching two men as Batgirl swung in to kick a third, the blows strangely resulting in horn noises rather than normal sounds of human violence 

* Batman and Robin shaking hands, an act apparently triggering Batman's transformation into a ghostlike apparition, his disembodied head floating in mid-air, attached to the body of a real bat 

The Siren regained her senses to find herself being handcuffed by Officers Tara and Shannon. What could the visions mean, she wondered, as she was hauled from the courtroom. Although unable to decipher them, she had a feeling that this was only the beginning. 

****

"THAT EVENING, A FESTIVE CHRISTMAS PARTY BRINGS   
VISITORS TO WAYNE MANOR!   
UNBEKNOWNST TO THE OUTSIDE WORLD, THE   
SUBTERRANEAN BOWELS OF THE PALATIAL ESTATE   
CONCEAL THE SECRET HEADQUARTERS OF BATMAN!"

Police Commissioner Gordon smiled appreciatively as Alfred the butler showed the way through the cavernous hallways of the residence. Accompanying the Commissioner was his daughter Barbara, who marveled at the decorations adorning the mansion's vaulted ceilings and elegant furnishings. 

"Commissioner and Barbara Gordon," Alfred announced upon reaching the massive living room. Half a dozen other well-groomed guests were already milling about. 

"Commissioner, it's wonderful to have you both here on such a special occasion," millionaire Bruce Wayne greeted them. "Barbara, you look lovely, as always." 

****

"BUT LITTLE DOES BRUCE SUSPECT THAT   
BARBARA GORDON IS IN REALITY BATGIRL! "

"Quite a tree, huh?" said youthful Dick Grayson, gesturing at a towering Christmas tree that filled one corner of the room. It was a magnificent ten-foot tall Douglas fir. Barbara figured it must have cost more than she made in a day at the library. 

"I do love a good Christmas party," the Commissioner said, clapping his hands together in anticipation 

Barbara noticed a large old portrait hanging near the tree. It depicted a distinguished-looking couple that faintly resembled Bruce. 

"My dear departed parents," Bruce explained. 

"Didn't we pass an exact duplicate of that portrait out in the foyer?" she asked. 

"Oh, you'll find exact reproductions in a number of rooms in Wayne Manor," Alfred assured her. 

"Now then, shall we join together in a rendition of 'Oh, Christmas Tree'?" Bruce said. "Our tradition here at the manor is to sing 17 verses in 17 different languages. It' educational as well as uplifting, isn't it, Dick?" 

"It sure is, Bruce." 

Detecting a lack of enthusiasm in Dick's response, Barbara suddenly 'remembered' something. "Say, Dad, didn't you ask me to remind you to call the Mayor about the funeral arrangements for the Maharaja of Nimpah?" 

"The Maharaja of Nimpah died?" asked Dick. 

Barbara nodded. "It was the top headline in tonight's paper." 

"We have over 70 functioning telephones here at Wayne Manor for you to choose from, sir," Alfred offered. 

"Err, yes, well, I should really call from my office. There's some aspects of the funeral that I'm sworn to silence on." 

"Why the secrecy, Commissioner?" Bruce asked. "Concern over the disposition of the priceless knick-knacks the maharaja always brought along on his visits?" 

The Commissioner lowered his voice to avoid being overheard by the other partygoers. "Let me just say that it's related to the Joker obtaining that early release tomorrow." 

"The Joker's getting out of prison already?" asked Dick in consternation. He and Bruce exchanged concerned glances. 

"I'm afraid so. We're trying to keep that quiet, too. Lately, there been something of a public outcry that accompanies Warden Crichton's annual assessments of the Joker's reform." 

"I can't say I share the warden's optimism," said Barbara. 

"Me, neither!" said Dick. 

Bruce held up a calming hand. "Now, Dick, who are we to question the Warden of Gotham Penitentiary?" 

"What's more, one of the Joker's old molls has been seen frequenting establishments known to supply manpower for Gotham's super-criminals – an ominous time for her to resurface." 

****

"THE HEADMASTER OF HIJINKS – BACK TO BEDEVIL   
GOTHAM WITH HIS CRIMINAL MISCHIEF?   
THE COMING DAYS COULD BE TRYING TIMES INDEED FOR   
OUR HARD-WORKING HEROES!"


	3. A Truck Pulls Up To The Prison Gates

As dawn broke on the horizon the following morning, a paddy wagon pulled up to the gates of Gotham State Penitentiary. In the back of the vehicle, the Siren studied her traveling companion with idle curiosity.

"Aren't you Blaze from the Falseface organization?" the Siren asked. "I thought you had reformed."

The dark-haired woman shrugged. "Ehh…didn't take."

"Well, at least you gave it a try. I could never reform for even two minutes. I just can't be good - it's not in my nature."

"I know what you mean. Getting nabbed right now really messes up my plans. I had a commitment for gainful employment from someone who's been hiring every super-villain moll in sight - would've been a real sweet gig."

"That's a shame," said the Siren, feigning interest.

"It is. By the way, do you play softball?"

The Siren scoffed. "Certainly not."

The paddy-wagon lurched to a stop and the back doors were presently unlocked and opened. The Siren stepped out cautiously and looked up at her surroundings. The stark concrete architecture of the prison loomed on the horizon in all directions. She watched a flock of birds as they flapped freely overhead before vanishing from her view behind one of the massive block-shaped watchtowers. 

Two armed female guards appeared to show the Siren to her lodgings for the foreseeable future. As she was being led away, she recognized the Joker passing by in the opposite direction.

The Crown Prince of Crime was chuckling and rubbing his hands in glee. With his request for an early parole granted, he was enjoying being escorted out to the front gates – and freedom. 

Warden Chrichton removed his pipe from his mouth to share some words of wisdom with the hyperactive albino. "I do hope you'll refrain from any more of this flying saucer nonsense." 

"While you're at it, I'd stay away from pre-atomic submarines, too," Ted the Guard warned.

"Oh, dear, you fellows don't leave me with too many transportation options, do you?" the Joker said. A troubled look crossed his face, but only briefly. "Well, I guess I'll be merrily motoring with the masses, then. Any other requests?" 

"Yes," said Chrichton. "This time, I'd strongly advise you to avoid associating with little green men."

"Well, you know, he wasn't really that little – more of a mid-size green man."

"All the same, you'd do well to exercise caution in that area."

From a distance, several sets of eyes watched the Joker emerging from the entrance to the penitentiary. The Joker waved farewell to his escorts and strolled off down the street, whistling to himself. Several blocks behind him, a powerful car engine purred to life.

(Bat Spin)

Honest Gabe's House of Deathtraps catered to a clientele with highly specialized needs. If one required a giant magnifying glass, a machine gun-turreted sarcophagus, or an oxygen-sucking vacuum chamber, one went to Honest Gabe's. And, like a snake returning to it's skin, the Joker seemed irresistibly drawn back to this favorite old haunt. 

He found the proprieter in the midst of making a sales pitch to a new customer: an elderly oriental gentleman who was short one arm and one leg.

"It's the latest thing for the mobility-challenged," Honest Gabe was saying. "It's called the _bionic_ appendage. No longer will you hobble down the street in shame. Now you can hobble with style and panache!"

"Ahh, Honest Gabe – good to see you!" the Joker said loudly, putting an arm around the salesman's shoulder. "Tell me, my good man, do you carry any devices capable of re-routing the control to an automobile's steering? Possibly something that could be operated from a hand-held remote?"

"What do you need this to accomplish?" asked Honest Gabe. "And for what type of vehicle?"

"Indulge my whimsical mood, if you will. Let us say something with tendrils….unyielding, suffocating tendrils. Do you have any such device that would fit, say, the approximate dimensions of a deluxe-model hearse?"

"I certainly do. However, I only have one in stock and it's already been reserved by King Tut."

"Perhaps I could persuade you to part with…"

"Tut's already paid for it and is picking it up tomorrow. If you need one, I can back order it and you'll have it in a month." 

Honest Gabe noticed that his elderly customer had come across an item that caught his interest. The old man was standing transfixed in front of a rusty metal chair contraption. Disengaging himself from the Joker, Gabe headed over to see if he could make a quick sale.

"You've got a sharp eye there, my friend. Don't let the ragged appearance deceive you. This item is a classic, no doubt about it."

Becoming annoyed, the Joker put a hand on Gabe's elbow. "You haven't time for _me_? I've given you steady business for nearly a decade…and it's the Joker you send to the end of the line?"

"Certainly we appreciate your business, Mr. Joker, but given the brief life span of most super-villainy careers, I'm sure you'll agree that we need to do whatever we can to support up-and-coming local entrepreneurs."

"Bah!"

This exchange went unnoticed by the old man, who was still gaping at the metal chair and the oval-shaped headpiece attached just above it. He had come to the store immediately upon hearing of its whereabouts from his old friend, one Mr. Klink.

"A glorious day for the League of the New Order. The Colonel's information was correct," he whispered. "The key to victory over the Allies has just fallen into our hands!"

"VICTORY OVER THE ALLIES? 

WHAT ON EARTH CAN THIS FELLOW MEAN?" 


	4. Poised On A Purple Motorcycle

Several hundred yards away from the store, Batgirl sat waiting for the Joker to emerge. Glancing around, she noticed the sleek, dark edges of the Batmobile sticking out past other, smaller cars parked on the street. With a rev of her engine, she rolled up to consult with her colleagues.

She gestured at the House of Deathtraps. "This is his first stop on leaving prison? Not a very good sign."

Batman nodded. "A very _bad_ sign for those all who cherish peace and order." 

Seeing the Joker come stomping out of the establishment, Batgirl swiftly dragged her cycle off the street behind the Batmobile. The three heroes all ducked their heads for a moment, praying they hadn't been spotted. When they straightened up, the Chaplin of Chicanery was strolling down the street, his back to them. They scrutinized him for signs of purchases he had made inside, but the only thing in his hands was a hot dog.

"I'm finished at Honest Gabe's for the time being," the Joker muttered into his wiener-shaped phone.

"Groovy!" he heard Undine reply. "Did you get it?"

"I'm afraid our friends at Honest Gabe's were not as helpful as I'd remembered. They practically gave me the bum's rush. Me, one of their most loyal customers!"

"What a drag!"

He made a furtive glance behind him. "And the Terrific Trio is creeping along on my tail wherever I go. They're so impressed with their 'cleverness' that they don't think twice about violating a man's rights!"

The Joker paused to grimly consider his lot in life. "It seems the rest of the world has decided that the Joker is but a frivolous funster. Wellll, when I've finished with these uncultered boobs, they'll cower with fear and respect before me!"

Undine spared a glance at the driver of the red-interiored roadster in which she sat. "So…what are we going to be hauling? You?"

"No, you'd better not approach in the Jokermobile. I don't want to give the Dynamic Dunderheads any more excuse to bother me than they are already. Just lay low in the general vicinity of the Department of Motor Vehicles."

(Bat spin)

"Joker's inside renewing his license," said Robin, keeping an eye trained on the DMV building. "What's it mean?"

"Could mean a crime involving multiple vehicles," Batman surmised.

"Or perhaps he's merely trying to make sure he doesn't run afoul of traffic police the second he gets out on the highway," Batgirl offered.

Over at the side entrance, they could see a driving instructor holding the door open for the Joker to re-enter the building.

"My goodness, you drive well for someone who hasn't been behind the wheel of a car in over a year," the instructor said as he added up the villain's driving scores.

"Well, I'll tell you: once you've piloted a flying saucer, everything else is just child's play."

The man chuckled politely. "I see. Now, we'll have you step over her to take the picture for your license."

The Joker stood where he was told and struck a pose for the camera. His hand automatically rose to chest level, so accustomed was he to holding numerical placards when posing for government photographs. He favored the man with his toothiest grin as the flashbulb went off.

"All done."

"Oh, dear, I do hope that harsh light didn't make me look old."

"Why, you're as handsome as ever," responded the bureaucrat. The instructor told everyone exactly what they wanted to hear, regardless of character, appearance or driving ability. The Joker let out a delighted squeal at the compliment and moved his hand over his face as if his pale cheeks were blushing.

The Joker's noisy display was clearly irritating the man at the next counter, whose encounter with the DMV wasn't going as smoothly. The hooded man turned to glare at the Joker, then returned to his argument with the woman at the counter.

"What do you mean you can't take my photograph like this?"

"Sir, you're required to appear in everyday attire on your driver's license photo."

"This is my everyday attire." 

Although he once held the entire city gripped in fear, the Wizard's time in the spotlight had long since passed and he had been largely forgotten. Since he now lacked the wherewithal to pull off any substantial crimes, his insistence on wearing his cowl in public reduced him to being just another curious oddity on the Gotham landscape. 

"I have court records that can document my connection with this outfit for over…"

His plea was drowned out by the sound of the Joker hooting and clapping his hands as he was handed a new driver's license.

"Silence, idiot!" the Wizard growled.

The Joker's celebration ceased abruptly. Drawing himself to his full height, he took two menacing steps toward the Wizard. 

"I beg your pardon?"

Unfazed, the Wizard reached over and grabbed him by the throat. "I told you to shut up! And I don't like having to repeat myself!"

Out in the Batmobile, Batman was saying, "Perhaps he's upgrading the Jokermobile for some sinister purpose."

Robin pointed. "Uh oh – looks like the Joker's gotten into an altercation!"

The three heroes leaped from their vehicles and made toward the glass doors. They could discern the Joker inside, his fists trembling in rage as he glared at the Wizard. Then the Joker glanced over at the caped crusaders, and his demeanor underwent an instant change. His scowl turned into a chuckle and he held his hands up, as if offering an apology. 

Batman was just reaching for the door when the Wizard, satisfied that he had made his point, released the Joker and turned back to his business at the counter. The Terrific Trio hesitated in indecision, Batman's hand gripping the door handle. Seeing that they were starting to block pedestrian foot traffic, they chose to return to their vehicles.

Watching the crime-fighters retrace their steps, the Joker let out a relieved sigh. He pulled his hot dog phone from his coat. As he dialed, he could feel his anger returning.

"Undine, I'm going to need that parcel you purloined yesterday." 

"But, Joker, you let them all loose now, and we won't have any left to unleash at the funeral."

"Mmmm. I'll be judicious in my usage. Now, I want you to bring it over – on foot - and leave it outside the building by the…" the Joker's voice dropped into an unintelligible whisper.


	5. A Masked Trio Huddle

The crime fighters had agreed that Batgirl should begin a circular route on her cycle around the perimeter of the DMV.

"One more question: how long did the Wizard spend behind bars?" she asked.

"Murdering his own brother was a crime too cold-blooded for even Warden Crichton to overlook," Batman recalled. "The Wizard served years of hard time without ever being offered early parole." 

Batgirl rubbed her chin. "And it was the Wizard that started the altercation with the Joker. Despite being both younger and taller, the Joker chose not to respond with violence. It looks to me like the Wizard is the one we should be following around."

*****

The driving instructor gulped and strove to put on a cheerful demeanor as he greeted the Wizard. To be stuck giving a driving test to one raving lunatic was bad enough, but to get two in a row was just plain horrible luck.

He led the Wizard to a waiting car, anxious to get the driving test over with. As he and the Wizard fastened their seat belts, he heard some cackling, followed by a white knuckle tapping on his window. He rolled the window down to see what the Clown Prince of Crime wanted.

"I just wanted to thank you for all your wonderful service today," the Joker gushed, thrusting his bleached face in the window. 

At the same time, the clown prince furtively unscrewed the lid of a jar he held in his hands. It was the jar that Undine had dropped off for him moments before. He shook the jar vigorously just beneath the level of the window, then pretended to notice the Wizard's presence in the car. 

"Oh, hello there." He gave a friendly wave and backed away.

When he straightened up, he saw the dynamic duo eyeing him suspiciously from the other side of the street. He tried to seem nonchalant as he briskly left the scene. Batman watched the Wizard start the car up and head off on the test run. 

Seconds later, there was some excited shouting from within the vehicle. The car lurched forward in an alarming burst of speed. It veered off course, ran over a series of orange rubber cones, and headed straight for the back of a VW bug that sat parked in front of a dumpster

WH-HWUNCH!

The sound was loud enough for Batgirl to hear over the sound of her bike's motor. She turned her head to see the tail of the test vehicle sticking vertically up out of the dumpster, it's wheels still spinning. She worked out that the car must have vaulted up the back of the VW bug and plummeted headfirst into the dumpster.

Snickering over by the doorway, the Joker tried to envision the Wizard's current status: crushed, in serious pain, and surrounded by garbage.

"Tsk tsk," the Clown Prince muttered. "The Wizard should have slowed down! But that's how some are! Bzzz-y Bzzz-y Bzzz-y!" He savored the scene of destruction for another moment, then scooted over to hide behind some oil drums.

The Dynamic Duo stood frozen in amazement at the pandemonium transpiring across the street.

"This must be the work of the Joker!" said Batman.

"Wait! Where'd he go?"

They bolted across the street, but came to a stop as the Jokermobile went tearing by the building at 50 miles per hour.

"There he goes! To the Batmobile!"

The two raced to the Batmobile, leaped inside without slowing, and moments later were off in hot pursuit of the villain's vehicle.

The Joker emerged from behind the oil drums as he heard the Batmobile departing. From his vantage point, he could see his cohorts speeding a block ahead of the caped crusaders. He could also see Batgirl's cycle approaching the Jokermobile, at an angle and not yet within their view. 

It was hopeless for Undine and the boys, he decided. They had one Bat vehicle behind them and another in front. Deciding it was best not to stick around to see if they squealed on him, he tiptoed off in the opposite direction.

The Dynamic Duo rounded a corner and found themselves bearing down on Batgirl's cycle. She was stopped in the middle of the road, looking behind her, unaware that she was in their path. Batman swerved just in time to avoid calamity and the Batmobile came to a screeching halt next to the cycle.

"Batgirl! Which way did the Jokermobile go?" Robin yelled.

"I don't think it matters. The Joker wasn't in it. It contained some of his old gang members, though."

"No surprise there," said Batman. "As if there were any doubt of the tricky devil's connection to _that_ vehicle."

"Gosh, Batgirl, why didn't you keep after them?" Robin asked. "Try to arrest them?"

"On what charge? The Joker wasn't inside and we don't even know that he still holds the title to the car."

"Assuming a title was ever properly procured in the first place," said Batman, trying to contain his indignation.

"But why did the Joker go to the DMV on foot if he has a car?" Batgirl pointed out. "And how could the Jokermobile have been moving so fast if it had just come from the DMV parking lot? I suspect it just came blasting by from a side street."

"A diversion!" exclaimed Batman. "It's sole purpose: to draw our attention!"

"Quick, back to the DMV!!" shouted the Boy Wonder.

Batgirl watched the Batmobile back up, then burn rubber as it turned around and sped back to the DMV entrance. She turned her heavy bike around and followed her colleagues.

*****

The unconscious Wizard and his driving instructor were being loaded into an ambulance as the Batmobile drove up. 

"I don't see any sign of the Joker," said Batman, jumping from the car.

"Are these men going to be okay?" Batgirl asked the ambulance driver.

"They should be fine," said the driver. "We're only a few minutes from Gotham General. We'll get them there on the double!" The ambulance took off with its sirens blazing.

A little girl ran up to them from across the street. "Hey, Batgirl," she said. "I saw what happened to the Joker! He lay down near those orange cones and pretended he was knocked out. They put him in the ambulance along with the men who really were hurt."

Three blocks away in the back of the ambulance, the Joker could make out the little girl gesturing and pointing towards him. He watched the Terrific Trio all turn in his direction, their surprised, open mouths visible even from that distance.

"Bah! Children: nature's most cursed creation!" he grumbled. He watched the caped trio race back to the Batmobile.

"The Terrific Trio were barely gone at all – my men must have put up quite flimsy resistance! Egads, how could those nitwits get overtaken and subdued in four minutes? Well, they can ponder their inefficiency from the jail cell they're no doubt currently bound for - no great loss there. Undine, on the other hand, will be sorely missed. I wouldn't really mind losing henchmen constantly if I could just hang onto a moll once in awhile." 

He paused reflectively.

"But _why_ does this trouble me?" he wondered, exploring his feelings just as Warden Crichton had urged him to do. 

"Frail femininity, while pleasing to my artistic eye, has always had its share of drawbacks. Why, I would have probably won half my battles with the Bat-folk if I'd had molls that were minimally useful." Unaware that Undine had eluded capture in the Jokermobile, the Joker rubbed his chin.

"Mmmm. That does it - no more fragile fashion-plates for me! Next time, the woman by my side will have some muscle and aggression to go with her curves!" His train of thought was interrupted by the gentle bounce of the ambulance as it pulled up into the hospital driveway.

The Batmobile rumbled into the hospital parking lot only a minute behind the Joker. After searching the parking lot in vain for their nemesis, the three crimefighters headed for the information desk located just inside the sliding main doors.

"We have reason to believe that the Joker is loose in your hospital," said Batgirl. "Do you know of anything here that would attract his criminal interest?" 

The woman at the desk thought for a moment. "There are rare and valuable drugs in the pharmacy," 

"Not the Joker's style," Batman quickly decided.

"Well, there's only one major operation scheduled for this afternoon: a spleen replacement."

"Batman! Look at the name of the patient," Robin said, peering at the woman's clipboard. "It's Egbert!"

"Of course - the night watchman at the Gotham City Waterworks! He happens to bear a startling resemblance to his cousin Alfred, the butler at stately Wayne Manor."

"Isn't a spleen replacement the most delicate of surgical procedures?" said Batgirl.

"The patient was wheeled into the operating room just a few minutes ago," offered the information lady. "The procedure is being observed by visiting doctors from around the county as a test study for similar surgeries in the future."

"But Joker thinks that Egbert double-crossed him," remembered Robin. "And if he saw Egbert go by on that gurney…"

"Quickly, which way to the operating room?" asked Batman.

The caped crusaders charged into the operating room just as the surgery was about to commence. The eerily familiar figure of Alfred's cousin lay peacefully on the operating table. Rows of seated doctors watched as a figure clothed from head to toe in a green surgical gown and mask picked up a scalpel and brought it to within centimeters of the unconscious form.


	6. Robin Lowers Shoulder And Charges

Robin raced across the room and tackled the blade-wielding figure, knocking him to the floor, but the smocked man was immediately back on his feet.

"Haven't had enough yet, huh? Are you sure you've got the stomach for murder?" Robin asked, before belting his opponent in the gut. 

KLOMP!

"Don't be alarmed, care-providers!" Batman called out to the astonished gathering as he gripped the gasping foe in a headlock. "Under this innocent-looking surgical cap, you'll find hair of a hue quite peculiar for a renowned surgical practitioner!"

In one motion he ripped the surgical cap and mask off to reveal a red-faced doctor trying to catch his breath. Instead of finding green hair, they were staring at a completely bald head.

"Holy Cranial Disorder!" yelled Robin

"What…on…earth…do you think you're _doing_?!" the surgeon managed to gasp out as Batman released him.

"Strange. I seem to be mistaken," said the caped crusader.

"We're very sorry, sir," said Batgirl, assisting the doctor to a chair. "Do you think you'll be able to continue with the operation?"

"I very well may be able to if you three will get…out…of…my…sight!!"

"My apologies, sir," said Batman. "If you ever need…"

"_Out, you brainless buffoons_!" bellowed the surgeon, his cheeks now red from rage in addition to exertion. The terrific trio wisely departed without another word.

"Well, that was embarrassing," Batgirl said once they were back in the hallway.

Robin's face wore a guilty expression. "Gosh, Batman, I didn't mean to…"

"Crime is a dirty business, chum. Put it out of your mind," said Batman. He raised a finger as his deductive mind produced an explanation for their mistake. 

"I'm sure the Joker would want to disrupt that operation….unless he never learned of it…because he didn't leave the ambulance parking area in the first place!"

"Gee whilikers, yes!" said Robin. "That's it!"

"You mean he just snuck into another ambulance and stole the keys?" asked Batgirl.

"Precisely! To the Batmobile!"

Back in the operating theater, the doctor had regained his composure. Calling for calm from the group of observers, he proceeded to begin the operation. He leaned over to carefully make an incision. Suddenly, his head jerked up as an unforeseen spray of matter hit his mask. The assembled doctors gasped as long pink strands spurted up from the patient's prone form. The air was suddenly filled with the stuff as it continued to rocket upwards with unusual ferocity.

One doctor recoiled as some of the stringy substance landed on him. He took a closer look at it. "Isn't this….silly string?"

"I didn't even make the incision!" protested the surgeon.

From the midsection of the patient, there slowly emerged a tuft of green hair, followed by a white forehead and a pair of devious eyeballs. As the doctors gawked in amazement, the top half of the Joker suddenly sprouted from the operating table, cackling madly.

"Oh, what a special occasion," he cried, spreading his arms. "Egbert has just given birth to a beautiful, bouncing, baby boy!"

The surgeon's mouth hung open in amazement.

"This calls for a celebration! Have a cigar!" said the Joker, taking a stogie from his pocket and placing it in the doctor's mouth.

The cigar predictably exploded as soon as the Joker lit it, leaving a black circle of soot around the M.D.'s mouth. Several observers raced from the viewing gallery to locate Batman.

The Joker jumped up onto the operating table, dislodging the patient's torso and legs, which fell to the floor with a clatter. 

"Oh, dear," exclaimed the Joker. "This seems to have been a difficult birth for poor daddy! The intensive labor has left him quite frail!"

The observing physicians could easily tell that the torso and legs on the floor were fake replicas constructed of metal and plastic. Eagle-eyed viewers recognized the parts as items left over from the clown prince's brief flirtation with robot accomplices.

"May I have a drum roll, please?" cried the Joker, commanding their attention. Seizing up a pair of steel surgical utensils by the blades, he tapped out a drumbeat on the flabbergasted doctor's bald head. 

"Respected members of the Gotham medical community! I come before you today in the spirit of mischievousness and tomfoolery!" 

"Wh-who are you?" cried one of the out-of-town physicians.

"I am the sworn enemy of the mundane and the predictable! I am the wild card in the deck!" 

The Joker whipped out his business card, which burst into flames before anyone had a chance read it. He tossed it into a nearby waste receptacle, which promptly began burning as well.

One of the doctors had managed to catch up with the terrific trio out in the parking lot. Seeing her frantic gestures, they knew her message before she even spoke. With Batman in the lead, the three dashed off in the direction of the woman's pointing finger.

Back amidst the pandemonium of the surgery, the operating physician was closely scrutinizing Egbert's head. The cranium appeared to be real rather than artificial, and he thought he saw the nostrils inhaling and exhaling. 

"What is this, Halloween?" another doctor was yelling in the background.

"Halloween, you say?" said the Joker. "You can rest assured, my good man, that when I start basing my humorous hi-jinks on national holidays, you won't have to ask if it's the case!"

Detecting an odd angle to Egbert's neck, the surgeon cautiously lifted the green sheet hanging down both sides of the operating table. Underneath, he saw the Egbert's inert body lying on a thin bench that angled down away from the false top of the operating table. The slant of the bench allowed the night watchman's feet to rest on the floor while his head lay up in full view where everyone expected to see it. The letters "w-a-s-h-m-y-f-e-e-t" were painted in green on the patient's toes; evidence that the Joker had been concealing himself here under the table before the physicians had arrived.

"Like it?" the Joker asked regarding the trick table. "It's an old magician's gimmick for the sawing-the-man-in-half trick. Here, watch this."

He briefly passed his hand in front of his face, then spit out a round white ball into his palm. After a moment, a second ball emerged from his mouth, then a third and a fourth. He held the balls up for the surgeon's inspection, then threw all four into the upper section of the viewing gallery. They exploded, unleashing a stench that smelled like something out of the toilet at the ballpark. The room's occupants groaned in objection and covered their noses.

"This way, Batman!" yelled a voice down the hall. Vaulting from the operating table, the Joker seized the case containing the donor spleen for Egbert.

"Do you mind if I borrow this? I'm running low on dog food!"

Unleashing another blinding cloud of silly string from his pockets, the Joker headed with the spleen for a nearby window. Before anyone could lay a hand on him, he was gone. The crimefighters burst into the room to be greeted by poor visiblility and an obnoxious odor, but no Joker.


	7. Spinning Bat Emblem

The onset of nightfall found the Batmobile parked back at the Joker's first stop of the day. The Dynamic Duo had dropped Batgirl off at her cycle following several hours of fruitless searching for the Joker. They were now left alone to ponder their failure.

"But he only stole the donor spleen!" said Robin. "It was a completely pointless crime!"

"Precisely, Robin," said Batman. "The Joker's standard M.O.! My failure to take that into account is the primary factor allowing his escape." 

"Lucky for Egbert that we still had that spare bison spleen stored in the Batcave." 

"Yes, the doctors say he should pull through just fine if he can resist the occasional temptation to stampede."

"Why did you want to return here to the House of Deathtraps?"

Batman tapped his finger on the steering wheel. "I'm betting…that when the Joker goes into Honest Gabe's and comes out empty-handed, it can only mean one thing."

"That there's something he was planning to carry out with him!" Robin concluded. "Which means he'll be back!"

"Eventually. Honest Gabe has never shown a willingness to provide details of his business transactions, but I wonder what a look at his files would reveal?"

The Batmobile eased into a side alley and rumbled down to a deserted parking lot behind the store. Robin pointed excitedly.

"There's the Jokermobile parked right by the back door!"

"And it's well past normal business hours."

The duo emerged from the Batmobile and approached the darkened structure. Finding the back door unlocked, they entered cautiously. Creeping forward, Robin peered around the large showroom. He gestured at a stack of large triangular-shaped items along one wall.

"There sure are a lot of cones in here."

Batman nodded. "An integral component to many a deathtrap."

As they progressed farther down the aisles, they found themselves passing under a towering assortment of deadly devices. The bizarre collection looked capable of carrying out an impressive variety of exterminations.

"Batman," Robin whispered nervously. "A lot of these contraptions are designed to hold exactly two people, and the moldings all seem to be to our physical specifications." 

Batman's jaw tightened. "This establishment's existence is an insult to law-abiding urbanites everywhere – but of particular offense to us."

They cautiously explored the premises, scouring the area for clues. Their search ended as a door to a side room opened and the Joker and two burly henchmen backed out. The thugs' arms were filled with boxes and the Joker was carrying a sack.

"Should have known," Robin muttered to Batman. "Wonder what he's stealing?"

Batman checked his watch and called out, "5.25 hours, Joker! If I'm not mistaken, not only have we caught you red handed in a burglary, but you've set a personal record for your shortest time between prison stints."

Dumping their armload, the henchmen turned and slowly stalked towards the heroes from opposite directions. 

The Joker smiled as he spread his arms in welcome. "Ah, the Dynamic Duo. And right on time."

"It's a trap!" said Robin. "Come on, Batman, we'll have to slug our way to safety!" The duo assumed boxing stances.

"Joker, what foul trickery have you concocted this time?" Batman called out, keeping his eyes on the rapidly advancing henchman.

"Ahh, I'm glad that you asked, Batman. It's simply too masterful a plot for me not to share…"

Robin waited until the first charging goon was almost upon him, then fell backwards, pulling the thug with him. 

"…Now, as you know, the Maharaja of Nimpah was quite a wealthy fellow…."

As the Boy Wonder landed on his back, he thrust his legs straight up, sending the hoodlum cartwheeling through the air.

CRASH!

"…Why, the press reports that he was such an avid golfer that he specified in his will that he be buried with his most prized keepsakes--_eight jewel-inlaid golf clubs manufactured from solid gold_!"

Batman ducked under a roundhouse right from goon #2, then sent him staggering back with a pair of uppercuts.

SWOK! SMACK!

The Joker pulled a large bee hive from his sack and triumphantly held it aloft. He had kept the item with him since leaving the scene of the Wizard's driving mishap. He shook the hive vigorously, and an army of angry bees swarmed out.

Batman watched as several dozen bees formed into an attack formation and dove in their direction. The buzzing mass swarmed in circles above the ongoing battle. The two burly thugs surprisingly chose to suddenly lie face down on the floor. Moments after they did, the bees began descending. Ignoring the supine henchmen, one bee after another alighted on the caped combatants. Even the bees that didn't come to rest on them were now hovering just inches away. Robin's first impulse was to swat at them, but he paused for a closer look at the tiny intruders.

"Holy Hornet's Nest! These are African Death Bees!"

The Joker held up a finger. "Correction, Boy Bumbler! There were, sadly, none of that species to be found in the vicinity. These are a rare strain of the South African Stun Bee! 

"Assume a state of motionless, Robin!" Batman warned. "The South African Stun Bee is an easily agitated creature. It craves absolute tranquillity. We dare not move a muscle."

"Even our mouths?"

"Our mouths, our toes, our fingers…even the tiniest of movements could be enough to set them off."

"But we're moving our mouths even as…ouch! OUCH! I'm getting stung, Batman!"

"Yes! (hiss) As am I!"

The heroic pair managed to keep silent and found that complete stillness made the bee stings stop. Unconcerned with their plight, the Joker proceeded with his speech. 

"Now, as I was saying, there will be bouquets of flowers from around the globe at the Maharaja's funeral…hundreds and hundreds of pretty posies to attract our little bee friends. Unfortunately, large gatherings of Gotham mourners have not historically reacted well to hordes of bees unleashed in their midst. And once these bees see all the frantic movement their presence inspires, they will take out their displeasure on _everyone_ in the cathedral – security forces included."

A bee crawled over the tip of Batman's nose. Already feeling a numbing sensation from several stings, he held his breath and remained frozen. Cracking his knuckes, one of the Joker's thugs approached the preoccupied pair.

"Whatsamatta, Bats? Have those mean ol' bees decided to pick on you? Well, me and Ernie will help brush 'em offuh you." 

Batman could only watch with distrust as the brute walked up to him and jabbed a meaty fist into his stomach.

FUMPH!

The second goon circled behind the motionless Robin, then gave him a vicious kick behind the knee. Robin yelped as he dropped to his knees.

"Ouch! They're stinging me again!"

The Joker set down the empty beehive and picked up a box that had 'Hold for King Tut' stenciled along the side. He held it aloft to give his foes a peek at the object that had attracted him back to the store. 

"Phase two will commence as the hearse attempts to drive away with the Maharaja's coffin. The delicious device you see in my hands will correct the car's course, disabling the chauffeur, and bring it straight to my hideout for perusal and plunder!" 

"That's what you think!" Robin managed to call out between bee stings.

"Ehh…what is the brat talking about?" 

The Joker's cellular frankfurter began to ring. He grudgingly answered it.

"Yes? I'm kind of busy."

Undine was on the other end. "Joker! I got to thinking after I heard about your old caper disguised as the Maharaja – and I decided to make some phone calls. Well, dig this: the Maharaja is over in Nimpah right now – _alive and well_!"

"Oh, he is, is he?" Hanging up his hot dog abruptly, the Joker fixed the motionless crime-fighters with an accusing glare. 

"So…this whole funeral was a charade that your stuffy police commissioner set up - just to trick me into being easily convicted!" He nodded to his henchmen, who returned to their tasks, fists swinging. 

"Very amusing - turning the tables on me with a phony death announcement," the Joker continued, ignoring the nonstop chorus of punches and slaps accompanying his monologue. "And I'll wager I have that meddling dolt Gordon to thank for being followed around all day, also. Well, it's only fair that I return you to _him_ with some instructions. Yeh-ss."

He strolled around the group as the pummeling continued. He grinned as a particularly vicious blow knocked Batman onto a table in front of him. "It was so kind of you to bring the Batmobile right to me. With all this equipment I borrowed with which to booby trap the hearse, I would have felt terrible if it had gone to waste."

The duo's efforts to remain still and avoid the bees' ire were hopeless. Their uncivilized opponents persisted in gleefully belting them around the room.

"So you didn't bring that usual tagalong Batgirl with you this time," the Joker observed. "Well, she's certainly shown more brains than you two by having the sense to avoid my path. However, for my own peace of mind, I'm going to have to put her someplace for safekeeping, anyway."

Robin was gradually collapsing. In addition to being severely bruised, he had absorbed close to a dozen bee stings. His eyelids slid shut and the Joker could tell they would not be opening very soon. He turned his attention to Batman.

"You'll be glad to know that, with your quaint little vehicle at my disposal, you won't be kept separated from Batgirl for long. Rest assured that she'll be delivered to you in style. And I can think of no transportation more befitting her than your ostentatious auto."

Batman struggled to keep his eyes open. It appeared to him that the Joker was standing at a very odd angle. And even this lopsided point of the view was deteriorating as everything started going black. The taunting voice continued.

"When next you awaken, you'll find yourselves confined to a cozy box in my warehouse. Yeh-ss, and I'll have a wonderful proposition for you!" 

The last thing Batman heard before he lost consciousness was the Joker's annoying high-pitched laughter.


	8. Appetite For Espionage

Charlie flapped his wings in surprise as the door to the apartment burst open and its attractive tenant entered the room. Charlie could tell by her brisk stride that Barbara Gordon was in 'all systems go' mode. 

"I certainly picked the right time to visit police headquarters, Charlie," she said to her pet parrot. "Daddy received word that the empty Batmobile was located over on Victor Paul Boulevard."

She walked over to the far wall of the apartment and touched a secret panel. A section of the wall revolved around to reveal the wall's opposite side, containing a wardrobe table, wig, and Batgirl costume. 

"Let's review what we've learned so far, Charlie," she said as she grabbed her crime-fighting gear and began changing clothes. "Batman, Robin, and I learned that the Joker was being released from prison early, so we decided to keep him under surveillance. He stopped briefly at Honest Gabe's House of Deathtraps, but departed without purchasing anything. He next visited the Department of Motor Vehicles. While he was renewing his driver's license, the mysterious Wizard unsuccessfully attempted to pick a fight with him. A few minutes later, the Wizard had a disastrous driving test that ended with the car in the dumpster. The Joker faked an injury in order to get hauled off in the same ambulance as the Wizard. We caught up to the ambulance at the hospital, but couldn't locate the Joker. Batman and Robin haven't been seen in public since we parted ways that evening."

She zipped up the back of the Batgirl outfit. "Is their disappearance the work of the Joker? The Wizard? Or some new villain who's descended upon our city?" 

"It's obviously the Joker," Charlie said, although the proclamation emerged as typical bird squawks

Batgirl ignored the incomprehensible noises. "Batman told me that vehicle malfunctions were the Wizard's specialty when he was in his prime. Couldn't his car 'accident' have all been a ruse to throw suspicion off himself?"

"Wrong, wrong!" Charlie answered, which came out "squark, squark!"

"I can't help feeling that the Wizard is heavily involved in whatever dark scheme is being perpetrated. Hopefully, I'll be able to find some clues in the abandoned Batmobile that reveal where the Dynamic Duo stopped in the last few days. Wish me luck, Charlie!" She fastened her cape as she strode toward the Batgirl Cycle.

"No, the abandoned car is obviously a trap! Listen to me, stupid!" Charlie attempted to say, but Batgirl was already taking her secret freight elevator down to the street. Charlie found himself squawking at an empty room.

******

On the other side of town, another person bursting with nervous energy was pacing his living room. Bald, dapperly dressed, and wearing a monocle, the man checked a phone number in his address book. Before dialing, he peered suspiciously out his window. This would constitute an odd step in the phone dialing process for most, but not for this man. For this man had an appetite for espionage.

And, in a dimly lit room at the Happy Cockroach Apartment Complex, an ancient-looking phone began to ring. The clumping steps of a false leg drew closer to the dusty side table on which the phone perched. After two more clanging rings, a claw-shaped hand prosthetic angrily snatched up the receiver. 

"What is it you want? Speak!"

"You have acquired the chair?" asked a voice with a wavering 'singsong' tone.

"Colonel?"

"Danke for the correct application of my title. My dumpkoff neighbors cannot seem to remember. As for the purpose for my call, the chair we spoke of..."

"Ah, yes. Your sharp eye has served our cause well. I was indeed able to obtain the zombie chair from the House of Deathtraps." 

"It is functional?"

"Completely. All that was required of me was to scrape the rust from the terminals. These western fools have just handed me the means with which to control their foolish minds, their free will. I am indebted to you for locating it after all this time."

"It was nothing. It takes more than the fall of Berlin to impede the reasoning abilities of the 'Iron Eagle'. Why, just this day I have deduced that it was our dear Hogan seen frolicking at some cabins along Lake Tonto."

"The _other_ Colonel. Interesting - while my scorn is directed at an entire nation, yours is focused like a laser upon a single man. He severely damaged your reputation, did he not?"

The bald man became very animated. "Nein! Those were lies! No soldiers ever escaped from Stalag 13! Not one! I will not be held responsible for fabrications flamed by scurrilous rumors!"

"No insult was intended. Be assured that few even recall those old tales. How many years has it been now since the Allies prematurely declared victory?"

The caller regarded the ceiling as he tried to remember. "It seems like the distant past, but Robin the Boy Wonder has not yet grown to manhood, so it cannot have been that long. 

"I will tell you the real reason for the Boy Wonder's seeming eternal youth."

"Yes, yes, I'm well aware of your 'dynamic duplicates' theory. Haven't you ever considered that perhaps Batman employs some manner of stunted dwarf in his missions?"

"Whatever the explanation, I must exercise caution. I witnessed the Batmobile departing as I exited from the Honest Gabriel establishment. The Bat Man may be monitoring my activities."

"I would not worry. I once exchanged words with the Caped Crusaders as they scaled the side of a building. Upon noting their presence, I simply opened the window and confronted them. They knew better than to challenge me and were quickly on their way."

"Still, Batman may have alerted the American immigration officials about my return to Gotham."

"Ah, the American immigration authorities! They pose a threat reminiscent of the French Fighting Legion: nothing more than a weekend diversion!" 

Ninety seconds later, when the two had finished laughing, the bald man continued. "If you are concerned about law enforcement, my advice would be to maintain a low profile and postpone implementation of your plot until I return from Lake Tonto."

"Which will be when?"

"Soon. How much longer can Hogan possibly avoid my grasp?"

"Very well. However, my revenge upon this mongrel nation will not be delayed for long."

******

Inside a darkened warehouse in the bad section of town, a red bulb on a control panel lit up. Two burly henchmen watched their boss light up in response.

"It begins, my slaphappy subordinates!" the Joker exclaimed. "That light means that Batgirl has just started the motor of the boobytrapped Batmobile! Now, we'll just arrange a little detour that brings her by for a visit!"

He clapped his hands in hyperactive glee. "I hope she hasn't gotten too attached to Commissioner Gordon. I wonder how she would react if he were to suddenly…cease to exist!"

****

"HEAVENS!!

WHAT DIRE DEVELOPMENTS LAY IN STORE?

****

STAY TUNED!

THE WORST IS YET TO COME!"


	9. Thursday, 7:30pm on ABC

**"AS WE LEARNED IN OUR PREVIOUS EPISODE"**

_Barbara Gordon talking with her worried father in his office _

**"THE OUTLOOK FOR GOTHAM: BLEAK!"**

_Police examine the deserted, parked Batmobile _

**"THE DYNAMIC DUO HAS DISAPPEARED!"**

_Barbara Gordon talking to a parrot in her apartment _

**"THE SCENE THAT TV LAND CUT!"**

_A handwritten letter to Batgirl, apparently left by Batman _

**"A TEMPTING INVITATION!" **

_Tentacles shoot out of the Batmobile's steering wheel _

**"TRAPPED IN THE BATMOBILE!" **

_Arms wrapped in wires, Batgirl sits frozen at the wheel _

**"WAS THIS TRIP NECESSARY?" **

_A remote-controlled Batmobile swerving all over the street _

**"THIS MUST BE A PENGUIN EPISODE!" **

_The stalled vehicle is approached by the Joker _

**"NO, EVEN BETTER!" **

_Joker watches as a crate bearing Batman and Robin is opened _

**"A TERRIBLE PROPOSITION" **

_The grim faces of the bound caped crusaders _

**"BATGIRL'S LIFE FOR THE COMMISSIONER'S DEATH?" **

**"AND NOW."**

Undine's dream was interrupted by a purple-gloved hand shaking her awake.

"Undine," said the Joker. "Arise! I have a new trio of treasures for you to behold, my merry minx! You'll never guess what has come into my possession this time!"

"A trio? So you've captured Batman and his friends again," murmered the blonde bombshell. "What else is new? Can I go back to sleep?"

"There will be plenty of time for you to sleep when we are permanently rid of the caped crusaders! Now I want you radiant and presentable within the hour."

Unable to impress his moll with his exploits, the Joker departed from the wildly decorated upstairs office and descended into the concrete and brick décor that marked the majority of the warehouse. He decided that relaxing in Batman's car would be just the thing to bolster his ego. Clutching the remote that gave him complete control of the vehicle, he returned to the Batmobile and hopped into the passenger seat next to the imprisoned Batgirl. He gave her a toothy grin.

The next 15 minutes ticked by slowly for Batgirl. In addition to being forced to listen to her captor's constant hoots of amusement, she was made to play guinea pig for his warped experiments. While she sat strapped to the seat, the Joker fiddled constantly with the remote control. He made one tiny adjustment after another to see just how tight he could get Batgirl's seat belt straps without making her pass out. Finally growing bored with this sadistic game, the Joker adjusted the controls to let her have a little breathing room. He called out to two burly goons standing nearby.

"Bring that Bat-box out here! I'm tired of waiting!"

The huge crate bearing the bound caped crusaders was quickly hauled back in and tilted before the parked Batmobile. The lid was pried off to reveal Batman and Robin still inside, defiant but helpless.

"Well, what's it going to be, Batman?" said the Joker. "Batgirls pushing up daisies? Or are you prepared to finish off Police Commissioner Gordon for me?" 

"The answer," replied Batman. "is no! You can do what you like to us, but under no circumstances will we aid or abet your devilish designs upon the Commissioner's life."

Robin did a double take at hearing this. "What do you mean no'? Didn't you hear what he said? He's going to kill Batgirl – and we're next!"

"Buck up, chum," Batman counseled, twisting to look at his partner. "Being on the side of right isn't always a bed of roses."

"Who do you think Gotham City can afford to do without, Batman? You and I or Commissioner Gordon?"

Shock registered across the caped crusader's face as Robin's unspoken meaning became apparent.

"Robin, are you suggesting.that we help this madman with his nefarious deeds?"

"I think we should do whatever it takes to stay alive," said the Boy Wonder. "That's sure as heck what I plan to do!"

"Well, at least this young man shows promise," said the Joker. His grinning white features were suddenly blocked from their view by Batgirl's frantic face. She desperately strained forward against the seat belt straps.

"Robin, don't do it!" .

The Joker clamped a hand on her face and shoved her head back against the seat.

"Quiet, you!" he said. He waggled the remote control under her nose. "One more comment like that and I'll make that seat belt even tighter than you've experienced yet!" 

"You've put her through enough already, you fiend!" yelled Batman.

"You see, Batman?" exclaimed Robin. "If you can't stand watching Batgirl in discomfort, how do you think you'll feel watching her death?"

"Robin, your trepidation is understandable. However, I cannot allow you to become a pawn in this madman's scheme!"

The Boy Wonder glared back at him. "All my life I've been doing what you told me to! And it's finally beginning to dawn on me that you're not that bright! I can't believe I've been taking orders from you all this time!"

"That always baffled me too," mused the Joker.

Turning to his captor, the Boy Wonder said, "Joker, you didn't say anything about both of us having to take part in the Commissioner's death in order for you to release us."

"I suppose I didn't make any such stipulation." 

"Robin, you don't know what you're saying!" said Batman

"Oh, leave him alone, you big bully," the Joker interrupted, waving his purple-gloved hand. "Untie this fine lad, boys. This other fellow seems to be an unhealthy influence on him."

Robin waited as the Joker's stooges cut away the wires binding him to his mentor. The henchmen then pulled him from the large crate that had served as his prison. Robin wiped bits of sawdust from his red-breasted uniform as one of the stooges kept a machine gun trained warily on him.

"Now, you're to go straight to the Commissioner's office," instructed the Joker. "If that dimbulb police chief is in there with him, send him on some errand to get him out of the room for a few minutes. I assume that's all the time you would need to throttle our dear Commissioner. You _are _strong enough to finish him off by yourself, aren't you?"

"Plenty strong enough," replied Robin. "And a few minutes is more than enough time."

"Good, good. Now, you must follow my playful plot to the letter. I'm sure you wouldn't enjoy being ground into the pavement by the wheels of your own Batmobile." Joker waved the remote control as he patted the steering wheel for emphasis. "And just in case it occurs to you to pull a fast one on ol' Uncle Joker, don't forget what will happen to Batgirl if you deviate at all from your appointed course – my usual support for deviance notwithstanding."

Batman's chest slammed the front of the crate as he strained against his bonds. He fixed the clown prince with a glare.

"Joker! You listen and you listen well! If any harm befalls her due to your shenanigans, I'll make you regret it to your dying day." 

Looking amused, the clown prince clasped his hands together melodramatically. "Oh, how touching; how romantic! You seem to have a great deal of affection for her!"

Batman was taken aback. "Yes," he admitted. "Yes, I suppose I do. She is without a doubtthe most beauteous, the most able, the most spectacular automobile on the face of the earth."

"Err..no, I was speaking of Batgirl," said the Joker, his eyebrows rising.

"Batgirlyes, well, certainly Batgirl's safety is of utmost concern to me." 

"Oh! Of course it is! Hoo Hoo! He certainly sounds terribly concerned for his comrade, doesn't he boys?" the clown prince cackled. The henchmen laughed in agreement. 

Biting back an inappropriate response, Batman answered through clenched teeth. "Batgirl is fully aware of the high regard I hold her in, Joker. That being said, under **no** circumstances are you to scratchsmoke tobacco inweave needlessly in heavy trafficor drive in excess of posted highway speed limits - this automobile! Furthermore, you will not touch any of the interior."

"Yes, yes, put all that in a memo, won't you?" said the Joker, giving an exaggerated yawn. The clown prince of crime punched a button on his remote contraption to start the engine of the magnificent car. 

Upstairs in the bizarrely decorated office, Undine heard the powerful motor and got up from the television show she'd been watching. She went to the window overlooking the warehouse floor to see what was going on.

"Now, on your way, Boy Wonder! And no delays," the Joker was saying.

"I'm going, Joker," said Robin grimly. He started jogging off on his horrible assignment.

Beaming with pleasure, the Joker turned to Batgirl in the next seat. "We'll just tag along behind the dear boy to ensure he doesn't suffer a change of heart or get lost along the way." 

As Robin trotted from the warehouse, one of the Joker's goons spoke up. "But boss, I don't remember Robin actually promising to kill Gordon. Did you hear him say that?"

"I'm not sure that I did, now that you mention it. I guess it's a good thing **I **didn't promise not to kill Batman. Because that's what I'm going to do: I'm going to blow him into an infinitely advanced stage of rigor mortis. Well, not me, personally - I just had this suit dry-cleaned. But make no mistake, Batman, your final curtain is falling! Boys, make sure the caped crusader here has ample opportunity to see what good care I'm taking of his precious chariot then fill him full of lead!"


	10. Unmeasurable Wrath

****

"CENSUS TIME IN GOTHAM CITY: A TIME FOR JUBILATION…AS THE CITIZENRY GLADLY DOES ITS DUTY TO STAND AND BE RECOGNIZED. HOWEVER, NOT _ALL_ GOTHAMITES WELCOME RECOGNITION"

His census duties satisfactorily completed, Mr. Chitt waved goodbye to the jumping, cheering children in apartment 1G. He smiled, always thankful for the opportunity to pep-talk a group of kids into a patriotic frenzy. He climbed the stairs and knocked on the first 2nd floor apartment door he arrived at. He heard what sounded like someone cursing in a foreign language inside. Long moments ticked by before the door finally opened to reveal an elderly man leaning on a crutch.

"Yes?"

"Good morning, sir. My name is Bill Chitt and I'm with the Federal Census Bureau. May I have a moment of your time?"

"No. You represent the U.S. government?"

"That's right. This will only take a minute. The 1970 federal census is an important process, and we need your help to get every last person counted. Otherwise, Metropolis might get more federal funding than we do, and who wants to see that?"

Not waiting to receive an invitation to enter, Chitt wormed his way into the dimly lit apartment. He now realized that the man had a peg leg and a false hand in addition to the crutch. Chitt took a seat and flipped over a fresh census form.

"Now then, what is your current occupation?"

"My…occupation?" The old man gave a disgusted cackle. "You see before you…the harbinger of your country's doom. I have returned to Gotham to bring about the downfall of your civilization."

"And what type of work does that involve?" Chitt's pen was still poised for use, waiting to record the first intelligible piece of information he could get.

"Know now that my wrath is beyond measurement. I shall mock your pleas for mercy as I ascend inexorably to my rightful place of power, bringing with me the Empire's glorious rebirth."

"I'll just put 'self employed.' 'Which of the following most accurately…'"

"I will feast on your nation's suffering," the gentleman hissed, deep in thought. "Defeat and darkness are hovering over the Allies' doorstep!"

Beginning to suspect that he was speaking with a crackpot, Chitt decided to move on. "Let's just skip that question. Could I have your name?"

"The name whose utterance makes…women faint…children scream, men tremble. All will bow before Doctor Tito Daka! Daka, avenging warrior of doom….Daka, loyal agent of the Emperor, heavenly ruler and prince of the Rising Sun!"

"Is that spelled with a 'c' or a 'k'?" 

Chitt suddenly became aware of a large object partially covered by a sheet that sat behind Daka over in a corner. "That's an odd contraption. Is that a hair dryer?" 

Before his host could think of an answer, the curious bureaucrat got to his feet and approached it for a closer examination. The portion of the sheet that had slipped down revealed part of an old, iron chair. A large bell-shaped attachment, obviously intended to fit over the occupant's head, hung suspended just above it.

Stifling his rage for the moment, Daka eased himself towards the kitchen. "Ahh, please excuse for one moment."

He limped through the kitchen and entered a back room. Hanging on the wall of the room were dozens of different, bizarre prosthetic hands. Daka unscrewed the lifelike prosthetic that was currently attached to his wrist, and replaced it with a false hand that clutched a pistol in its grip. He returned to the main room to find the census worker pulling aside the sheet covering his iron chair.

"Meddling government inquisitor!" he said, brandishing the firearm menacingly. "Since you are so interested in my chair, surely you must want to sit in it."

Shoving the startled worker into the chair, Daka kept the gun-hand trained on him as he strapped the man's arms tightly to the chair arms. Daka then lowered the opaque, ominous-looking hood over the bureaucrat's head.

"You will soon find yourself undergoing an abrupt shift in allegiances. From now on, you serve a different master – the League of the New Order."

"Please, sir, I was just…"

Daka threw a lever on a switchboard behind the chair. Sounds of electrical buzzing and popping filled the air and the lights momentarily dimmed due to the sharp surge in power consumption. Lights flashed around the startled bureaucrat's face. 

After a minute, the noises and lights stopped. Daka freed the stunned census worker from the straps and placed a smaller headband-shaped piece around Chitt's head. Daka opened a drawer and removed a microphone.

He flipped the switch to 'on' and spoke. "Chitt, stand up." Chitt slowly stood. 

"Good. You will henceforth be a zombie, existing only to obey my orders. Now, fetch your briefcase. I have errands for you."

(Bat Spin)

Back at the Joker's warehouse, the two henchmen hefted their guns and grinned in anticipation. Seeing that Batman was about to die, Undine weighed the benefits of going downstairs to witness the momentous execution up close. Although averse to the possibility of bloodstains on her all-white attire, she decided that a snapshot was called for to mark the occasion.

The Joker sat straight up in the passenger seat of the Batmobile to check on the progress of Robin's assignment. He could discern the Boy Wonder's outline a good half mile away from the warehouse, close to trotting his view. The Joker picked up the remote control box. Through her palms, still tied to the steering wheel, Batgirl felt the powerful car kicking into first gear. 

"Now, let's see, silly me, what was it that Batman told me not to do to his car?" the Joker asked.

The Batmobile suddenly lurched forward into a group of garbage cans. There was a loud clatter as the cans toppled about in all directions. The Joker laughed in delight as he maneuvered the car around the warehouse. 

"Oh, that's right! I'm not supposed to scratch it! And what else I was to be certain to avoid? Why, I believe it was to avoid any scrapes!" 

Batgirl turned her head towards a series of sparks and a loud noise coming from her left. The teeth-grinding sound continued as the Batmobile grazed the edge of the rusty garage door in its exit from the warehouse.

Batman was straining against his bonds, a tortured expression on his features. Through the Batmobile's rearview mirror, the Joker intently observed the caped crusader's anguished reaction. The cherished image of the grimacing hero, surrounded by gun-toting thugs, slowly receded in the distance as the car left the caped crusader behind. The Joker sighed. 

"Ah, you know, I'm really going to miss him**."**

"Then let him live!" exclaimed Batgirl. "It's not too late to stop your men!"

"Oh, just listen to yourself, my dear: so innocent, so naïve in the ways of men. Batman and I have too much history, too many occasions of wounded dignity and bruised countenances. Water passes under our respective bridges no longer."

"But wouldn't that be the worst punishment you could put Batman through? Forcing him to live with the knowledge that you had set him free out of pity?"

The Joker sat with furrowed brow, mulling over this notion.

"Hmm. That's not bad," he said after a moment. "Not too shabby an idea at all. Maybe I'll take that approach with Robin after I show him Batman's corpse." 

"Why are you doing all of this?" Batgirl said, tugging angrily at her bonds. "And why is it so important that Commissioner Gordon die? He's a decent man just doing his job."

"I guess it is a bit of a stretch to claim that I really care whether Gordon lives or dies. Sadly, the Caped Crouton's real family is unknown to me and beyond my clutches. So I'm just forced to work with the material that's available. Now then, didn't Batman also mention something about dents in his car?" 

The Joker applied the vehicle's brakes, but not before the Batmobile rammed into a pedestrian, knocking the unfortunate man to the ground unconscious. It was obvious to Batgirl that the Joker had intentionally waited to hit the brakes. She saw that the fallen man was William Wumpington, the manager of the Savings and Loan that had just been robbed. Ignoring the injured man, the Joker drove on.

"And what was that Batman said about smoking? Hmm, let me puff thoughtfully on this cigar while I try to remember."

"Joker, you fiend!" Batgirl said. "You must put an end to this!"

The Joker used the Batmobile's cigarette lighter to light his obnoxiously large cigar.

"Say, did you see which pocket I removed this cigar from? It was the left one, correct?" the Joker asked, taking a tentative puff. "Hope this isn't one of the trick ones. Oh, good – it's a Cuban." 

Smoking contentedly, he replaced the cigarette lighter. As soon as the lighter was inserted back in it's socket, a new light lit up on the Batmobile's dashboard.

"Self diagnostic test initiated," said a computer voice from within the vehicle.

"Self…what?" said the Joker in astonishment. Pinging noises sounded from the handle-bars of the steering wheel.

"Foreign elements detected," said the computer voice. The Joker didn't know what that meant, but he didn't like the sound of it. 

The engine seemed to cut off for a second before restarting hesitantly. His concern building, the Joker looked down at his cigar and quickly tossed it out the window.

"There!" the Joker said bitterly. "The Cuban's history! I hope you're happy now, you infernal instrument! The foreign elements are gone!"

Hearing some odd engine sounds behind him, Robin slowed his pace and looked back at the Batmobile. It was jerkily stopping and starting in the middle of the street, seemingly torn on what it wanted to do. 

Inside the car, Batgirl felt the coils about her arms loosen. She pulled fiercely and managed to yank her right arm completely free of the wires. However, the tendrils tightened again about her left arm and the car gradually picked up speed again. The Batmobile's internal scan had interrupted the control of the Joker's remote, but only temporarily. 

Whipping out her free arm, the dominoed daredoll backhanded her captor in the nose.

SMEK! 

The Joker cried out as his head snapped back. "Ow! What did you do that for?! I didn't hit you!"

Batgirl blocked an answering fist from the Joker. "You fell for the dynamic duo's trick like an amateur!" she said. "You should have learned by now that Batman would never allow a cigarette lighter in the Batmobile. You activated the self-diagnostic test for him! All he had to do was order you not to smoke!" She used her forearm to misdirect another punch from the Joker.

"We'll see who has the last laugh, Batgirl," he growled, falling back on standard old, quips while he concentrated on punching out his traveling companion. 

Before the Joker could connect with his first blow, Batgirl seized the remote control from him. He grabbed for it, but she tossed it down the left side of the car seat. He gripped her by the throat with one hand and stretched over to reach the device with the other. Batgirl used her free arm to grab him by the belt. Giving a good yank, she lifted and tossed the Joker from the moving vehicle. He landed headfirst in the street. 

Robin was already sprinting towards the unconscious villain. As the Batmobile approached, Batgirl called out, "Robin, get in! They're about to shoot Batman!" 


	11. Hold for Emergency BatTurn

Robin leaped into the passenger side as the Batmobile shot past. Batgirl retrieved the remote control from beside her and manipulated it based on having watched the Joker use it. She guided the speeding Batmobile through a series of shaky turns to get it headed back in the opposite direction.

As they drove past the groggy William Wumpington, Batgirl shook her head in regret. "First he gets robbed by the Siren, and now this. This just isn't his week."

Robin noticed Wumpington for the first time. "Gosh, how many people did you run over, Batgirl?"

"As if I had any say in it," Batgirl said in disgust, gesturing at her restrained arm. "I need two hands to operate this. Help me get these coils off and turn this device off!"

Chief O'Hara was astonished to see the Batmobile go careening crazily past the light his squad car had just pulled up to.

"Mother McKree! What on earth d'ye suppose brought on that kind of drivin'?"

He started to turn to go after the weaving vehicle, but his sidekick tapped him on the shoulder and pointed in the direction the Batmobile had just come from.

"Chief, there's a man over there who can barely stay on his feet. And isn't that the Joker not far beyond him?"

"The woily divil himself!" O'Hara gasped, astonished at the sight of the purple-clad villain laid sprawled out on the pavement. "Come on, we'd better clap him in irons until we figure out his part in all this."

*****

Working as a team, the Robin and Batgirl quickly deduced how to disable the remote, free her arm, and return full control to the driver's seat.

"Thanks," she said. "You know, for awhile, you had me worried that you were really going to kill Commissioner Gordon."

"Aw, you know me better than that, Batgirl! Batman's had me practice 'Plan 47Z' so often that I know the words by heart now! I wasn't sure that our turncoat routine would fool anybody, but I guess you can't underestimate the Joker! Gosh, how far back to the warehouse?"

Back at the warehouse, the two thugs' had their attention focused on the scantily-clad Undine. The comely moll had found a camera to record Batman's execution for posterity, but now there were problems with the flash bulb. The henchmen watched intently as she fiddled in frustration with her camera, trying to get it to operate. Like true gentlemen, they politely refrained from murdering Batman until she finally gave them the thumbs up sign.

Smiling, Undine eagerly framed up her shot as the two thugs took careful aim at Batman's skull. The goons paused as they heard the great roar of a high powered engine, and turned to see the Batmobile rocketing towards them.

"Look out! They're tryin' to run us over!"

They took several quick steps away from each other to place themselves out of the path of the oncoming vehicle. As Batgirl steered the Batmobile between the vile pair, Robin declared, "Hold on for Emergency Bat-Turn!!

He wrenched down a handle in the door of the Batmobile, unleashing a large pair of parachutes from the back of the car. The gun-wielding hoodlums were instantly swept off their feet, consumed by the twin parachutes. The Batmobile whipped a U-turn around Batman's crate and screeched to a halt. The goons grunted as they tumbled and rolled across the concrete floor to land in a billowy white heap. 

From his place in the crate, Batman heard four SMACKS! in rapid succession. Batgirl and Robin were pummeling the engulfed, thrashing thugs senseless. Batman smiled proudly as his protégés made short work of the foul gang. 

As could be expected, the second the Joker's underlings had been dispatched and all signs of threat eliminated, police sirens began wailing urgently in the distance. Nothing drew Chief O'Hara's men like the scent of unconscious felons.

*****

A short time later, Commissioner Gordon found himself the recipient of unwelcome news at Police Headquarters.

"What?" Gordon said, staring at the phone incredulously. "Reports of home burglaries flooding in? All of the victims recently visited by employees of the Census Bureau? Great Scott! Get me the Census Bureau Director…and get me Batman!"

*****

At that moment, the Batmobile was arriving home at its cavernous headquarters. As the rotating parking pad automatically turned the stopped vehicle to point back in the opposite direction, the Dynamic Duo disembarked to be greeted by their faithful butler.

"Welcome home, Master Bruce and Master Dick," said Alfred. "I'm quite relieved to see you both home safe. And may I offer my congratulations on apprehending the Joker; a job well done."

"Thank you, Alfred," Batman replied. "All credit should be attributed to Robin and Batgirl's intrepid efforts."

A lightbulb went off in Alfred's head. "Oh, lest I forget, I have boxed up the items you requested and arranged for their destruction and removal."

"What's being destroyed and removed?" asked Robin. He saw that a row of neatly organized boxes lined the wall of the cave. He read the precise printed lettering from the top of the nearest box.

"Why, it's the old Bat Erupting-Volcano-Detector! I always hoped we'd get a chance to use it in the field!"

Batman nodded. "As did I, with the Bat Ghost-Repellent and our other polter-cides. Their development seemed so vital at the time."

The red phone lit up. Being the closest to it, Batman seized the receiver. "Yes, Commissioner?" He nodded calmly, then froze, his eyes widening inside the slits of his cowl. 

In the meantime, Robin continued looking over the treasure-trove of unused devices. "And we're throwing out the Bat Gang-Plank-Extender finally? That thing's been gathering dust for years!"

Alfred coughed discreetly. "I beg to differ, sir."

Batman looked grim as he hung up the phone. Robin was still engrossed in discovering the contents of each box.

"Gosh, Batman, are you getting rid of the Bat Music-Analyzer too?" 

Batman was staring off into space, his face solemn. "Do we dare? Can we afford to part with even a single item in our crime-fighting arsenal? Yesterday I had dismissed the Bat Gravity-Reversal-Corrector as a colorful, but space-wasting extravagance. Today….I just don't know!

"Holy Indecision!" said Robin. "Sounds like that phone call has you second-guessing yourself."

"Might I point out, sir, that even a structure as impressive as the Batcave does have its spatial limitations," offered Alfred. "You cannot keep everything."

Batman paused to consider Alfred's words, then nodded grimly. "You're right, Alfred! I'm letting my concern over these new crimes turn me into a packBat!"

Alfred briefly considered resigning over his employer's play on words, but his unswerving loyalty prevailed. Batman had, after all, saved his favorite lookalike cousin. "Commissioner Gordon bears grim tidings, sir?"

Yeah, what'd he say?" asked Robin.

"I'll explain on the way," said Batman. "Come on!"


End file.
